Page 66 of Blind Prophet

The Cessna circles overhead, its pilot following standard SAR protocols. I create theXsignal with my arms, indicating we’re mobile but need assistance. The green acknowledgment light flashes through the cockpit glass.

“What does that mean?”

“Mountain Rescue is inbound.”

The small plane banks away, disappearing over the ridgeline. Its pilot will relay our exact coordinates to the ground teams.

“If there’s no landing area, how would they?—”

“They have specialized equipment,” I interrupt, not wanting her to spiral thinking about helicopter hoists. “But we won’t need it. The ATVs can reach us here.”

I say that confidently, but I’m not 100 percent certain. One issue at a time.

She shivers, and I’m not sure if it’s from the increasing wind or from her imagining climbing a rope ladder.

“If necessary, they’d strap you into something and hoist.” Based on those wide eyes, my statement doesn’t ease her concerns. “They wouldn’t trust a civilian’s arm strength to climb a ladder flapping in the wind. You’ve seen too many movies.”

I sit back down beside her and pull her close to me, rubbing her arms vigorously to build heat.

“I’d never put you in a dangerous situation.” The smoking helicopter we’re both staring at disagrees with my oath. “Caroline, look at me.” I wait until those breathtaking eyes are pointed at me and not at the wreck. “I’m not sorry this happened, if only because it’s a chance to see you again. To really see you. To talk. For me to tell you how sorry I am. How much I wish I’d done differently. I never stopped loving you. I wanted to. Desperately. But you dug your way into my soul, and nothing and no one has remedied the situation. And I’ve tried everything.”

“You mean that, don’t you?”

“Give me this weekend. I love you. Always have. Always will.” Saliva pools in my mouth, and I swallow it down, looking off into the dreary sky. The phrase slipped out without my putting proper thought behind it, but the lack of forethought doesn’t make it less true. You can love someone and not be with them. In my case, I loved her so much that I let her walk away so she would be happy. So what am I doing now?

“They’ll be here soon? The rescuers?”

And with that question, it’s clear she’s over me. I’ve been reading into things, opening up when I shouldn’t have. Her fingers press down on my forearm, pulling me back to the painful present.

“Probably not long,” I answer.

It’s so quiet in these woods. We should hear them approach. The trees surrounding us grow closely together, but I imagine an ATV can find a path, and the first responders will likely use ATVs. Hopefully, we’re not too far away from a road. And then from there…

“Will you be okay getting back into a helicopter? To get back to my house? Or would you prefer to drive?”

“How far away from your house are we?”

I try to visualize our location. It’s not a route I drive, given I fly to save time. “Hour and a half. Maybe. The roads aren’t a straight shot.”

“If you fall off a horse, the best way to get over your fear is to get back in the saddle, right?”

Caroline rode horses growing up. Her parents have photos of her in her jodhpurs and a black velvet riding hat, beaming with crooked teeth.

“You’ll seriously get into a helicopter again?”

“If it’s prudent,” she answers matter-of-factly, and once again, it’s clear she’s changed. She’s stronger. But then again, she’s always been strong. Maybe now, I’m finally seeing her.

An engine rumbles off in the distance.

“Do you hear that?” Excitement coats Caroline’s words.

“Yeah. They aren’t far away. If I were to guess…” I point an arm southward, along the creek line. “There’s a cut-through in that direction that eventually ties into Route 50.

I carefully pull the extra blanket around Caroline’s shoulders, press my lips to her forehead, and push up, prepared to wave my arms.

Although, if they break through the clearing, we’ll be easy to spot.

A splash of white and red through the trees lets me know they’re close. And with those bright colors, they aren’t attempting to sneak up on us either.

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